Use Me, Abuse Me, Leave Me, Love Me
by Fere will keep you alive
Summary: Harry and his friends are captured and thrown into the dark dugeon of Malfoy Manor. But who, broken and battered, is waiting with a smile and a plea? Draco/Harry.
1. The Sorrow Soaked Dungeon

"Congratulations, young master, you have company." The Prison Guard/Death Eater sneered at what appeared to be more shadow in this unlit, frosty dungeon as Harry was thrown in.

The metal portcullis slammed shut with a sense of finality.

Harry groaned as his night vision was blinded by a solitary candle lighting up. He coughed roughly and spat the blood in his mouth onto the grounds of the Malfoy Manor dungeon. His ears heard a faint tinkle of shackles off in the shadows.

"Who's there?" a familiar voice spoke from the darkness.

"It's me, Harry." When he spoke his name, the shackles moved quickly, suddenly, once, and were then still again.

"I see." The voice was male, definitely familiar, but he could put neither name nor face to it.

"Who are you? Show yourself." The shackles dragged towards him slightly, and out of the dark came blonde hair, blue eyes, once perfect skin torn with numerous beatings. "Malfoy?" Harry stared in disbelief at the visage of his enemy of enemies. He studied each feature carefully, nowhere did it contain even a trace of the once superior sneer that it had always worn.

A broken person sat in front of him. Of that he had no doubt. "What happened to you?"

He readjusted his gaze, uncomfortable under the stare of the Golden Boy. "I…displeased them. Lord Vol-… you-know-who ordered me to kill someone. I couldn't, so someone else had to do it. They reported back to him and I was locked in here."

"You had to kill Dumbledore."

"Yes."

"But Snape did it, in the end."

"Yes…how did you know that?"

"I was there." The shackled rattled as the fallen angel stared into Harry's eyes, trying to find an element of a lie, or an explaination.

"Then…can I ask you something?" Harry gave a cautious nod. Draco subtly shifted onto his hands and knees, looking straight at him. He spoke clearly. "Why didn't you stop me?"

"Dumbledore petrified me." Harry blinked. In the dim candlelight, he noticed the shackles bound the broken boy's leg to the wall. However, it was old, rusty.

"Oh," he shrank back, half his face covered in darkness once again. There was a silence for a number of minutes, which seemed like an eternity in the abyss. Then Draco spoke, "It's funny, really. The stories I've heard of living in prisons for as long as I have, they learn to hate the captors. I do too, even my own parents. But through all of that, all the beatings, it felt as if they were mentally kicking me off the pedestal I built for myself, and because of that, I've thrown away all the old feelings. Especially hate. I never want to feel _that_ emotion again." He shuddered. Harry wasn't sure if it was because of the memories or the cold. "I want to begin again. Harry," they both glanced up at each other's eyes. Shock powered its way through Harry, he had heard his first name uttered from those lips for the first time in seven years, "If a chance of escape is ever presented to you, can you take me with you? I swear, I am going to fight the captors, and I can't do anything effective in here." His eyes held absolutely no falsehood in them.

"Yes." The fallen angel smiled, a pure smile that held no hate, he rose, slightly, and, with a split-second movement, took Harry in his arms and hugged him. Harry was shocked, the boy was so thin. He guessed, remorsefully, that he had not been fed for a few days, and this hadn't been the first time.

"Thank you." He whispered. After several seconds, he released him. The sound of his shackles scraping the cold stone floor was accompanied by sounds from above. A door opened, flooding the dungeon with a blinding light, and several people were led in by masked Death Eaters. The jail cell doors around them creaked open, in the cell next to theirs, Ron and Hermione were ushered in, and on the other side, the Wand maker, Ollivander, along with a goblin Harry faintly remembered as working at Gringrots, Gripfoot, or something like that… and finally, in the cell opposite them, were Luna Lovegood and Dean Thomas. The cell doors shut in the same final tone and the Death Eaters departed, leaving the room to return to the dusky gloom it had held before.

"Harry? Are you in here?" came Hermione's voice, wet, Harry dreaded if it was with tears, or with blood.

"Yes, are you okay?" he pressed his face against the bars, struggling to see into the next cell.

"We're fine, mate." Harry breathed a sigh of relief, Ron sounded in good condition, which made one of them.

"Listen. Does anyone else hear banging?" chimed the almost silver voice of Draco Malfoy. There was indeed an argument in progress upstairs. There was plenty of banging, shouting and cursing.

"Malfoy? Is that Malfoy in there with you?" Ron sounded incredulous and angry.

"Shh!" Draco silenced him. At that moment, a small _ping!_ sounded in the dungeon. The doors all unlocked themselves. In the dark, they could make out the small features of a gentle house elf. "Dobby!" the broken boy did not notice, but another mental part of him stitched itself back on to the main part.

Then the quivering voice came from the dark. "Master?" Everyone but Draco climbed out of their cell.

"Harry…" Draco's voice was weak, he was lying on the ground, reaching out for him. Then The Question appeared in Harry's head.

_Should I take him?_


	2. An Escape and a Retreat

The banging was coming closer with every second. The shouting followed swiftly. Harry stared in awe as he overcome the years he had suffered at the hands of Draco Malfoy.

The same broken boy stared at him, begging to be released.

The banging was outside the door, unlocking the three door locks. Dobby rushed forwards and clicked the shackle open. The fell to the floor with an alarmingly noisy clatter. Another click and the prisoners vanished in a pure, blinding light. The two Death Eaters unfortunate enough to have been by the door when it embraced them crumbled into ash.

Then they were gone, flying high above the world like a star. This would have been a euphoric experience, but was cut short when they landed bodily on the back garden of the Weasley House. There was a brief disturbance inside, and the back door opened, and light crept around the edges of a silhouetted Mrs. Weasley. She rejoiced openly as she could see her son and Harry through the small amount of light.

"Oh, my dears! Come in, please!" regardless of whether or not she knew who they were, she greeted all of them and gave them each a mug of hot chocolate. Harry risked a glance at Draco, across from him. He was drinking his portion down like it was unicorn blood, giving him extra life. Next to Harry, Ron was being suffocated by his mother, who was unashamed at the 8 visitors around the living room. In her stead, Mr. Weasley stood up and addressed them.

"Dobby here has informed me that you all have been rescued from Malfoy Manor, yes?" he spat out the word Malfoy, making Draco wince slightly at the dread of being recognised. "And, as it happens, we seem to have enough beds free. We invite you to sleep here tonight, and when Mr. Ollivander, Griphook and…" he regarded Draco for the first time; he was nearly unrecognisable under the cuts, scars and dirt, "I'm sorry, who are you?"

Draco took a deep breath and spoke. "Draco. Draco _Malfoy_." He too spat the name out, his mouth, glad to be rid of something as vile as the once-proud name.

"Ah…" Mr. Weasley regarded him with distaste, then a little voice told him, '_Look at his face. Look at his ankles, his clothes! Those are the signs of imprisonment. Harry wouldn't have brought him here if he was bad, would he?'_ "Right…" Mr. Weasley mumbled on to that effect for a while, then the kind and slightly naïve Mrs. Weasley placed Harry and Draco on a couple of fold-out mattresses in Ron's room. Hermione was strategically placed with Ginny next door, so as to stop any possible fighting.

The silence between Harry and Ron was so thick you would require an extra-sharp knife to cut it. They were sitting in Ron's room, assaulted by the bright orange Chudley Cannons logos littered around the room. Draco was still downstairs, being fussed over by a surprisingly unbiased Mrs. Weasley, daubing the blonde boy with ointments for his bruises, cuts, scars and after all that, a thorough wash to remove the months of dirt.

"Malfoy." Ron scoffed. "Bloody Malfoy, on our side?"

"Something's different about him, Ron. I can't really explain it, but until we'd rescued him, he'd been locked in that dungeon since last July, that's 7 months being tortured. He hates him own family! He said that he would fight with us, and I believe him."

Ron had a strange look of acceptance. He had trusted Harry since their first year at Hogwarts. Why not now? If Harry thought Malfoy could be trusted, Malfoy could be trusted. Ron closed his eyes and lay back on his soft bed, wrapping himself in his duvet, sighing with comfort. Harry too closed his eyes and lay down; he put his ear to the floor and listened to the sounds of the kitchen below. Draco was talking about his confinement, as far as he could hear, he was also wincing with displeasure occasionally, like he was talking while Mrs. Weasley was rubbing the bruise lotion over his face.

Ten minutes later, Draco slipped into the bedroom, the creaky door masked by Ron's snoring, who had fallen asleep as soon as his head had touched the pillow. Draco sneaked over to his bed, climbing over Harry as he did so, careful not to stand on him, and wake him, for he thought that Harry was also asleep. He sat on his bed and looked at the facial outline next to him, with only a metre of floor in between them.

Harry began to feel self-conscious under Draco's scrutiny, gave up, and fell asleep. He crept over to him and brushed an errant strand of hair from Harry's face. He smiled, and settled into his own bed.


	3. Black Jack

Draco awoke to the choking stink of smoke and death.

Draco awoke to the ear-splitting sound of curses being roared from mouths like it would poison them. Someone screamed the killing curse. There was another scream, a scream of pure pain and loss. From the same throat an undistinguishable battle cry escaped, there were more screams, splashes, gurts, shicks, every onomatopoeic sound that could be used to describe several people being ripped apart by a melee weapon. Then it went silent.

He vaulted out of bed, staring at the window. There, in the garden staring back at him was a small platoon of Death Eaters. One of the wiser raised their wand and uttered a quiet curse. A bolt of thaumaturgical energy raced towards him, and caught him between the eyes. The stupefy curse worked through his system instantly. He was out before he fell into a pair of strong arms.

*****

The Death Eaters wanted to set a fire around the perimeter, letting it swoop in, inflame the lower levels and smoke the prey out. Their plan would've worked, but they were a fresh band of conscripts, driven by the tyrant to capture or kill, so they made mistakes. They got too close and were too loud. Most of the inhabitants were in the kitchen, which had a lovely view of the garden and its addition of half-hidden Death Eaters.

The battle being raged was a relatively small one, by comparison of, say, the battle Hogwarts had to host when it had been invaded by Death Eaters last year. Thanks to their inexperience, the original 7 Death Eaters had been whittled down to just 4. They fought wand and fist for even a single death on the other side, and finally, they got one. The goblin Griphook, though, was a minor character and would not be missed very much. Nevertheless, in the nick of time, the Order of the Phoenix's cavalry arrived. They appeared in a circle formation around the four hardier Death Eaters. There were not many themselves, but they had recently taken on a couple that had been roaming Britain, using swords instead of wands to kill Death Eaters, while torturing information about everyone-knows-who from their victims, and so far they had proven themselves to be priceless allies.

They were a female and a male, both about nineteen, and they drew their swords and advanced on the enemy. The cries of a hundred slaughters rang in their ears and they gleefully entered into the blood lusting frenzy they had been most feared for. They swiped and they slashed and suddenly, it was all over.

*****

Harry darted forwards and caught Draco in his arms just in time for the battle to end. He tried to not look out the window, where he knew he would see chopped up little pieces of Death Eater littered on the ground. He carefully carried Draco back to his bed and laid him down. He had a slight, blissful smile on his face and was whispering something again and again. Harry leant in close and strained his ears to listen.

His eyes went wide with shock, and he nearly suffered a heart attack. Anger, shame, surprise, curiosity. Those colourful emotions swept through him, each vying for the place at the control panel to his actions. The anger wanted him to strangle Draco until he would no longer breathe. The shame wanted him to curl up in the fetal position in the corner of the room. The surprise simply wanted him to walk out the door. And the curiosity, he shuddered with an unidentifiable emotion as he thought about what his curiosity would lead him to do.

*****

The male beserker stopped his sword an inch from the only experienced, and only alive, Death Eater's throat while the female held him safely, and in turn, two of the Order held her steady while the others helped the wounded and dug a grave for Griphook, lowering him as respectfully as possible. The defenders, the Weasleys, looked in disgust at the macabre sight they had brought with them.

"Go on, Jack, ask him why. Ask him!" said the female. Her voice was bantam, sadistic yet musical, whenever she spoke she was half-giggling, as if there were a permanent comedian in her head, making her struggle to keep control. Those who got close enough would realize that her irises were a bright, blood red.

"Yes… Tell us, wretch. Why have you come here?" the male, Jack's voice was far more controlled than the woman's, but it still sang of the delicious feel of blood trickling down his throat. It would not be surprising if the pair were closet vampire wannabes. When the Death Eater did not answer, he tipped off the mask and cut the smooth cheek skin of Lucius Malfoy.

Jack then placed a hand on his wand and muttered the spell that would invade his mind. Lucius tried to cry out for him to stop, but was abruptly silenced by the invasion. Jack mentally shifted through recent memories like pages of a book, stopping every here and there out of plain interest. He worked his way through last night's, only his humanity stopping him from destroying the mind before he'd begun.

Eventually, though, his persistence paid off as their intent was finally revealed.

Jack watched the memory play through his mind like a badly made horror film. He-who-must-not-be-named was perching in a wooden chair as if there was a large, sharp spike on the chair and sitting flat would cause it to rise up somewhere uncomfortable. He was ordering Lucius to take his team to kill his son. Lucius, and by extent, Jack, was revolted for different reasons. In the past seven months Lucius had been conditioned to be repulsed at the very idea of having a son, and had been encouraged by the unnamed lord himself to perform disgusting, degrading acts on his own son, which repulsed Jack.

He retreated from the Death Eater's mind and relayed the given commands to the surrounding people. He then took the blade away from his throat, while the Death Eater nearly collapsed in relief.

Jack looked at his sword as if considering something. He glanced at his counterpart. She nodded.

Jack drew back the blade, and, with a cry, rammed it into Lucius' rib cage, straight through the heart, through his partner and out the other side. She released him, and the Order released her.

She glanced down; the fatal wound was already half-healed.

"Can we kill the son also, Jack?" she hissed.

*****

In the end, surprise won him over. Harry pulled out his wand and muttered a spell Hermione had taught him to wake a stupefied person.

Draco's eyelids fluttered open and he briefly took in Harry's shocked expression before he walked out, thudding down the stairs, leaving Draco alone, again.

Leaving him alone because he had whispered, with a few moans and loving sighs in between, 'Harry….Harry….Harry…. Harry….Harry….Harry…. Harry….Harry….Harry….'


	4. Caesura

_Why? Why are your eyes blue? Your hair - blonde?_

_Why do you look at me so invitingly - with love in your eyes? Why do you whisper my name while you sleep?_

_Why do I always wander into introspection when I see you?_

Harry sat on the charred grass, outside the house. The people who had killed the Death Eaters had disappeared, but every now and then Harry saw a glint of metal, reassuring him that he was protected.

Harry didn't hear Hermione approach. She sat on the grass next to him. For a while, they didn't speak, and then she said; barely audibly: 'Do you want to talk about him, Harry?'

He tried the nonchalant approach. 'I don't know what you mean.' He could imagine her rolling her pretty eyes, but it was too dark to see.

'You know very well what I'm talking about. Draco Malfoy! Ever since the raid you've been avoiding him like the plague. You can barely stand to be in the same room as him. Why?'

'No reason. None of your business.'

'Harry, please!' she exclaimed tiredly, 'when you two are in the same room, there's tension even Ron can pick up on, you could cut it with a butter knife!' She calmed down somewhat and spoke again. 'You are obviously itching to do something, and - if we want to concentrate on finding the horcruxes, you need to do it soon. For all our sakes.' With that, she left, slamming the back door behind them.

He was alone for maybe five minutes, then the back door opened again, and someone else stood next to him. It was the one person he didn't want to see - Draco bloody Malfoy.

'What do you want?' said Harry.

'Everyone wants you to come inside. They're worried.'

'Yeah.' Harry laughed derisingly. 'They do that.'

'Harry...' Draco put his hand on Harry's shoulder. Immediately Harry shrugged it off, and stood up.

'Don't touch me!' shouted Harry. Draco paused - stunned. Harry looked at him, and the eternal beast in his chest roared. Without thinking, Harry drew back his fist, and slammed it into Draco's cheek. He fell backwards - and hit the ground hard. Harry bent over him, watching a small trickle of blood drip from his cheek, where Harry had hit him.

_Shit... he's not breathing!_ He rushed to Draco's side, attempting what he thought was CPR, he gingerly put his lips over Draco's, and blew in. He placed his hands on his chest firmly and pressed down. Draco's eyes fluttered open, and he lept at Harry, pinning him down on the grass. Draco leant in - and kissed him.

**Can you ever forgive me for being away for so long? I'm sorry!**

**Anyhow... this story will have another chapter - maybe two before the end, then I will begin concentrating on '101 ways to kill Kenny'...**

**This chapter is called 'caesura' because I put in quite a few of them. A caesura is a '-', a break in a sentence.**

**Don't look forward to a happy ending. Seriously - don't.**


	5. Leave Me, Find Me, Hate Me, Love Me

Harry's heart fluttered, he found himself almost enjoying it. Harry started to open his mouth to Draco's coaxing when he remembered himself. Harry leapt back, and headed back inside. Draco heard him mutter 'Faggot…' and then the back door slammed shut behind Harry.

Draco was then left in the freezing cold, alone. He muttered 'Goddamit,' and too went back inside.

As he stepped inside, he caught the eye of Mrs. Weasley. She had a very concerned, motherly look on her face, 'Is everything alright, dear?' she asked.

'Everything's fine, Mrs. Weasley.' He lied. Draco paced through the cluttered, overcrowded house in a daze until he reached the living room. There, he simply collapsed into a chair, and stared at the fire.

He stayed there long after the fire burned down, after most everyone had gone to bed, he sat and stared at the fading embers, until everyone else was upstairs.

* * *

In the morning, when Mrs. Weasley came down early to make breakfast, Draco was gone from the armchair. She bustled around the kitchen and assumed he had gone to bed, but after everyone else had come down, no-one had seen him.

'It's like he just disappeared. Why would he just leave?' Hermione glanced at Harry accusingly, but Harry sat there, silent.

'How do we know he went voluntarily? He could have been taken.'

'Well, whatever the case, we should start looking for him.' Mr. Weasley silenced Black Jack with a pat on the shoulder. 'Harry, Ron, you two search north. Jack, Josie and I will take the east, George and Fred can go west, and Ginny, Hermione, you go south. Everyone else stay here in case he turns up again.'

With very few more words, everyone went their separate ways, and searched high and low for Draco.

* * *

'We're wasting our time, looking for that snake. Have you forgotten we have a Dark Lord to defeat?'

'We need to find him, Ron.' Harry soldiered on, ignoring Ron's building frustration.

'Why?'

'Because we do. I don't want to see him get hurt, I need to make sure he's safe.'

'To make sure he's _safe_? What is he, your boyfriend? Have you forgotten about the six years of Hogwarts he went out of his way to make a living hell for us?' Ron stopped, grabbing Harry's arm to make him stop too.

'No, I've just forgiven him. Maybe you should try it too, sometime.'

'I've seen the way he looks at you, and whether you like it or not, you've looked at him the same way too.'

'I don't know what you're talking about, mate.' Harry brushed past him and continued up the hill, only for Ron to grab his arm again.

'You know exactly what I'm talking about. I may hate the weasel, but you're my best mate, and I want to support you, whatever. But I can't support you if you won't even admit it to yourself.'

'Let go of me, Ron,' he said, levelly, as if he were trying to keep some inner beast in check. He felt Ron's grip of his arm vanish, and Harry raced forward, leaving his friend behind. His instincts told him that Draco was close, very close.

For what seemed like hours, Harry ran through the wood, until he came to the edge of a sheer cliff. He was at the top, and on the edge, staring down at the bottom, was Draco.

'Draco!' Harry stumbled his way up to him, and grabbed him by the hand, yanking him away from the edge.

'Harry, what do yo-' Draco was cut short by Harry, bringing them together in a deep, needy kiss which spoke more than a thousand apologies ever would. That one kiss, and Draco melted in Harry's strong arms.

* * *

This story is officially FINISHED. Sorry! No sequel, 6th chapter, etc. Done and done.

From now on, I will be concentrating on doing my Avatar re-write.

Please review, review, review!


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